Where Are You Christmas?
by Kyepie05
Summary: In the Christmas of 1967, the gang can't manage to feel the Christmas spirit. In one year, they lost Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and two of their best friends. Through their own encounters, they begin to re-experience Christmas.
1. A Christmas Carol

**Okay, so I decided to try this Christmas story! updates will be pretty quick and probably not too long because I want to get it done before Christmas! Hopefully it works haha. My Christmas spirit was very late coming this year so I got the idea to do this based off of my struggling with it.**

**Each chapter will be a different greaser and be based off a different Christmas story (song, album, movie, book). I hope you guys enjoy this.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders or A Christmas Carol or the song Where Are You Christmas.**

_Where are you Christmas  
Why can't I find you  
Why have you gone away  
Where is the laughter  
You used to bring me  
Why can't I hear music play_

_My world is changing_  
_I'm rearranging_  
_Does that mean Christmas changes too_

_Where are you Christmas_  
_Do you remember_  
_The one you used to know_  
_I'm not the same one_  
_See what the time's done_  
_Is that why you have let me go_

-Where Are You Christmas by Faith Hill

**Story One**

**A Christmas Carol**

Soda had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he turned into the bookstore. It was freezing out and he was regretting his decision to be outside on his night off. But it was Christmas and he had things to get done. _What's the point?_ asked a small voice in his head.

He shook it off with a guilty pang in his stomach. This Christmas, the Christmas of 1967, was harder than any other in his life. It was his first Christmas without his parents who had loved Christmas so much and without Dally and Johnny. Of course he wasn't alone in being depressed this year. No one in the gang felt any sort of Christmas spirit. They may not have talked about it but it wasn't hard to tell. He knew the boys too well. Besides, when you felt it yourself it was easier to see it in someone else.

Soda slowly walked into the store and glanced around. He didn't have much but he had some money and he thought maybe he could find Ponyboy a book. Then the poor kid wouldn't have to keep rereading everything in the house.

The clerk looked up the moment he set foot inside. He was an older man with a beard that was probably grown out for winter and a unfortunate sweater on. "Good evening son. May I help you with anything?" Soda noticed with surprise that the man wasn't eyeing him distrustfully. He wasn't reaching for the phone just in case he needed the police and he wasn't keeping an eye on the register.

Soda hesitated then shook his head. "I'll just look around." The store wasn't very large but it was overflowing with books. Soda grimaced. He had no idea what he was looking for. He didn't know his way around books in the slightest. He ran his fingers through his hair and started down one of the rows of books. All he saw were autobiographies and the like so he quickly changed rows.

"Are you looking for something for your girlfriend?"

Soda fought back a groan. It wasn't a ridiculous question. People tended to expect him to have a girlfriend. But he didn't want to start thinking about losing Sandy on top of everything else. He was depressed enough this season without that. "No." _Please, please stop asking questions._

"A friend?"

_He won't stop. This guy is way too friendly._ "My little brother." He wondered vaguely if he'd rather deal with the questions or distrust.

"I take it he enjoys books."

"Yes. He's read everything in the house and he's only 14." Soda could hear the pride in his voice and felt a smile tug at his lips. Maybe the entire world had fallen down over the past year but he still had his genius brother.

"That's a rare thing, a good thing. It's good to encourage it. Do you read?"

"No. I'm a drop out," Soda told him as if that explained everything. He glanced back at the desk to see the man giving him an unimpressed look.

"What difference does that make?" he finally asked. "My wife dropped out. She reads more than I do and I own a book store."

Soda opened his mouth and then closed it again. This guy didn't understand and he didn't feel like telling him that he was too dumb to read. He couldn't sit still to save his life, much less to read a book. "I don't like it."

"You don't like being able to travel the world?"

Soda rolled his eyes. His mother had given him that talk before. "Just because I read a book wrote in London don't mean I'm in London."

"Just because you read a book that was written in London doesn't mean you're in London," the man corrected.

Soda threw him an exasperated look and started scanning the shelves faster. He wanted out. Distrust was better. You do learn something everyday.

"Something tells me that you aren't very excited about Christmas this year."

Soda spun around to look at the man. "It ain't your business." Now he was getting really annoyed. Maybe no one ever came in here and the man was bored. Although if he was this pushy maybe there was a reason that Soda was the only person in the shop.

"Your defensive tone is my answer."

Rolling his eyes, he looked back at the books. He needed to get home before Darry got worried. Did this shopkeeper have any organization?

"What else has your brother read?"

Soda rattled off a few titles that he'd seen around their room. A moment later the shopkeeper was at his side, looking at a shelf of books. He pulled one out and handed it to Soda. "That is my recommendation." Soda took a look at it. It was thick so it would probably take Ponyboy a few days at least. He flipped through it as the man named his price. Feeling that it was more than reasonable, Soda followed him to the counter.

After he paid for the book, he muttered a thanks and turned to leave.

"Wait a moment son."

Soda fought back a sigh and turned around. "Yeah?"

"That is my recommendation for your brother. This is my recommendation for you."

"I don't read and I don't have the money."

The man waved his hand. "A gift. As you can see by my shop, I get them faster than I can get rid of them sometimes." He pulled out a very small book and set it on the counter. _A Christmas Carol_. "When I'm depressed at Christmas, I read this," he said. "No one likes being depressed and it tends to be worse at this time of year. I'd like to help if I can."

Soda eyed him distrustfully and picked it up. He flipped through the pages until he reached the end then glanced at the page number. He couldn't stop his lips from turning up at a corner. "It's less than a hundred pages." Even he knew that that was short for a book.

"Yet, it's one of the most famous. I trust that you know the story?"

"Sure. Scrooge visited by three ghosts, so on and so forth. My mom used to tell us the story every Christmas." It was true. She'd sit the kids down and tell them the story and their dad would butt in with colorful remarks and little additions (his mom would then say "That didn't happen Darrel" with a smile on her face and his dad would answer "How do you know? Were you there?" and she would laugh and shake her head).

"I think it'd be worth a shot, don't you?" He saw Soda continue to hesitate and said, "If I can read this book nearly in an hour, I'm sure it won't take you long either."

"Fine," Soda said. "Thank you." He took the book, wondering how far he'd get through it. "Thank you Mr…?"

"Miller," the man said cheerfully.

Soda nodded and held out his hand. "Thank you Mr. Miller. I'm Sodapop."

"I know."

Soda raised his eyebrows, feeling instantly distrustful. "What?"

"I worked with your father." The man gave him a kind smile. "I recognized you from a picture he had of you boys."

"Oh." He swallowed and looked down at the books. He felt like he should say something besides "oh" but didn't know what. His parents were a topic that he generally evaded.

"I was sorry to hear of your loss," Mr. Miller said gently.

Soda forced a small smile, something his mom often called a "brave smile". "Thank you. We get along all right. My brother…" He thought of Darry, working an extra job for the holidays, which made the total three jobs, and fell quiet. He cleared his throat. "Thank you again."

"Merry Christmas," Mr. Miller told him gently.

Soda paused by the door then glanced back. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

He needed to sleep. He really needed to sleep but he couldn't manage falling asleep. Soda looked over at Ponyboy, who was snoring lightly as he slept. Why couldn't he be asleep like that? Instead he was wide-awake.

_I could count sheep,_ he thought. _But that never works. _Soda rolled on his side and spotted the book that Mr. Miller had given him today. In school nothing put him to sleep faster than a book did. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and grabbed the book before moving to the living room.

He muttered under his breath as he read, "_Marley was dead: to begin with._" He paused and chuckled. "What a first line." He kept reading, surprisingly captured by the story that his mother had told him so many times. But maybe that was why he was so taken with it.

This was the first year that his parents hadn't told their kids the story. Reading this made him feel like he was younger and curled up on the couch with his brothers again. It made his parents feel like they were still there and in reach. Surprisingly, it made it feel like Christmas again. The feeling was more than welcome.

When he finished the last page, he shut the book and put it down. He looked at a picture of his parents then at the corner of the room where the tree was supposed to be but wasn't yet. Darry was working at a tree farm. What was their excuse?

He bit his lip before getting up. Well that was that. He had a new goal for the season (his old goal had been "survive it"). He was going to enjoy Christmas, like he had as a kid, and he was going to try to help the others feel it too. His parents had always made Christmas as fun and loving as they could. Now it was his turn.


	2. Miracle on 34th Street

A/N: I hope you guys like this one!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders or Miracle on 34th Street.

**Story Two**

**Miracle on 34th Street**

"Darry-"

"Okay." Darry threw Soda a grin and shook his head. "Fine. We'll get the tree tomorrow morning. Goodness, kid." He'd gotten up that morning to Soda hounding him about a Christmas tree. They were later than usual but none of them had really felt the usual rush. With their parents gone, Christmas wasn't the same.

But Soda grinned his signature grin with an extra light in his eye that Darry used to see every Christmas. He hadn't expected that glint this year. "Thanks." He looked at Soda up and down. He could still see some of the sadness that they'd all been dealing with all year. But Soda looked better, healthier, and happier than he had over the last month in particular.

Soda looked back at Pony. "What time?"

Pony looked up from his eggs. "I can go anytime before I go to Mr. Dane's." His math teacher had asked Ponyboy, being the most responsible student in his class, if he would check on his elderly father while he was at work. Like Darry, Pony's teacher had taken up another job to help with the holidays.

"When do you usually go?" Soda asked.

"Around one."

Soda looked at Darry. "So tomorrow morning before Pony and I go to work?"

"Sure, little buddy." Darry chuckled at the new energy in his brother. He was glad to see it. He'd been worried about both of his brothers. They'd been quieter this month. He knew that, like he was, they were thinking about how much their parents loved Christmas and weren't here this year. He wished he could find a pool of Christmas spirit like Soda apparently had. It was hard to try to help his brothers (and Two-Bit and Steve) with it when he didn't even feel it himself.

He looked up at the clock. "I have to get to work. Do you two have clean up?"

Soda nodded. "We'll take care of it. Go on."

Darry nodded and grabbed his jacket off of the couch. He stopped as something caught his eye and looked at a copy of _A Christmas Carol_ sitting on the coffee table. He raised his eyebrows and reached for it when someone ran into him.

Darry jumped back and so did Steve, letting out a string of curses. "What were you doing standing in front of the door?" Steve asked. "It ain't like you don't have people that come through here all day! Damn!" He pushed his way past and went into the kitchen.

Darry chuckled and shook his head. "See you later." He walked out the door and swung himself up into the truck.

As he drove to work he thought about the book on the table. He didn't even know that they had a copy. Ponyboy must have found it somewhere and been up with it. Darry pulled up and put it to the back of his mind. It didn't really matter. He got out of the truck and got to work.

It was strange really how you could be all around something Christmas-y and not feel like it was Christmas. Christmas trees, one of the biggest symbols of the year, surrounded him and he still didn't feel it. Wasn't Christmas supposed to be a happy time? People were supposed to be friendly and happy. Maybe they were but he didn't see any real difference between now and the rest of the year.

"Have you been watching the Santa over there?"

Darry glanced at his coworker, Dave, who nodded at the line of kids by Santa Clause. "Not really," he said.

Dave grinned. "He's a cool guy to watch. I've never seen anyone handle kids like that guy does. This baby started crying and he had it quieted in under a minute."

Darry raised his eyebrows, remembering how difficult Pony could be as an infant. Most of the time Pony was silent but when he started crying he was near impossible to quiet. "Really?"

"Yeah. Seriously, keep an eye on him." Dave left to speak to a customer.

Darry glanced back at Santa, who was just sending a little boy on his way. _How can I be such a... Well, a Scrooge, when I'm not only around families and Christmas trees but Santa as well?_ He shook his head at himself and went to turn away when a snippet of the conversation caught his attention.

"She can't speak English, only Russian," a woman with a small boy was saying. "His parents just died and we haven't been able to teach him very much yet. But he insisted on seeing you."

Santa Clause looked at the little boy and then pulled him into his lap. Darry watched with curiosity. Maybe the kid just wanted to be around Santa. But what was Santa planning on doing here? Was he counting on the kid just wanting to sit in his lap like the other kids?

The child gazed up at Santa Clause and began to speak. Darry looked at the scene with dismay. The child did want to speak to Santa. This couldn't end well. He was about to turn away when he heard a second voice in Russian.

Darry watched in disbelief as Santa spoke to the child in Russian. He watched the little boy's face light up with joy and the boy's guardian cover her mouth. He was willing to bet that the woman was trying not to shed tears of relief. He watched on as the woman thanked Santa again and again as she left with the boy.

It was then that things clicked into place. It wasn't that you couldn't be depressed at Christmas but that somehow there seemed to be more things to lift you out of it if you tried to look for them. One small act here made things instantly better for that boy and all Santa did was speak Russian. A lot of people wouldn't know Russian. What just happened was nothing short of a miracle.

Darry turned back and started to get a customer. It was a miracle, that was that. But maybe it was more than a miracle for the boy. Maybe it was a miracle for him too because now he was thinking.

He thought back to his first Christmas as a big brother. His dad had helped him buy Soda a stuffed bear and he had been so proud to give Soda that little toy. It wasn't much but all through his young child years Soda had clutched that bear. He thought about the first year that Johnny was with them. Their parents had done everything possible to make sure it was a good Christmas for him. And it was their love that made it such a good one. It was Johnny's first decent holiday. He thought about each Christmas that he could remember and felt a real smile forming his lips.

No matter how hard things got, his parents had always been cheerful at Christmas. They were gone but their spirit didn't have to be. He could carry that on. Because miracles were possible. After all, he'd just not only seen one but felt one.

* * *

"You worked late tonight."

Darry jumped as he came in the door and turned on a light. Soda blinked up at him sleepily from the couch. "Why are you up?"

"I waited for you." Soda pushed himself into a sitting position.

"What about Ponyboy?"

"I put him to bed. He was difficult but he went." Soda yawned, "I wanted to talk to you."

Darry nodded and sat in his favorite chair. "Okay. Are you all right?"

"Fine. It ain't nothing serious. I just wanted to talk to you about Christmas."

"Oh." Darry looked at him, unable to hide his surprise. "You did?"

"Yeah. I read a book last night and-"

"You're kidding."

Soda glared at him playfully. "No. I read a book."

"What book?" No sooner was the question out of his mouth that it clicked into place. "_A Christmas Carol_. It was you You read _A Christmas Carol_?"

"Yes, Darry. I said that." Soda pushed the book toward him. "It made me think of Mom and Dad."

Darry picked it up. "They loved this story." He set it back on the table.

"Dare, we need to pick things up around here. It's so cold in here this year."

"I know, Soda. I know. We'll get a tree in the morning and-"

"I mean us." Soda shook his head. "We've all been wrapped up in our problems and-"

"I know. We ain't been thinking about what we can do to make things better. This-"

"-is the season for it," Soda finished. "I know. I had a lot of trouble, Darry. But I read that book and… I dunno. It made sense. I miss Mom and Dad and Johnny and Dally but… But if we can't be happy right now, when we need it the most, can we ever pull out of it?"

Darry blinked at him. "Nothing lasts forever."

Soda brandished the book at him. "It could. If we let it, it could. I don't want to be like Scrooge."

Darry grinned at him playfully and leaned forward. "You gotta have money to be like Scrooge."

Soda grinned. "Shut up. I meant that I want to be like Cratchet or his nephew. They didn't have a lot to be thankful for but they did it."

"And that helped you?"

"Well, yeah. We do have a lot to be thankful for. Mom and Dad made things good around here. We grew up with a lot of love. We weren't ever alone and we still ain't. We got the boys and each other."

"You're right." Darry was quiet for a moment. "You know, I saw the darndest thing today. There was this little boy to see Santa at the tree farm and he only spoke Russian. No English."

Soda raised his eyebrows. "Well that complicates things doesn't it?"

"That's what I thought. But you should have seen it, Soda. Santa just spoke Russian to the kid like it was nothing. And the boy's face, Soda. That little boy ain't ever going to forget it."

Soda smiled softly and leaned back against the back of the couch. "There's miracles every day. You just gotta be open to them."

"Hmm. I guess so. You know what I thought of?"

"What?"

"Remember that bear I got you for your first Christmas? I know it was a long time ago but when you were little-"

"Hang on." Soda got up and jogged down the hall, leaving Darry staring after him. Soda came back into the room and immediately tossed something brown in Darry's direction. He caught it and stared.

"You still have it."

"I do." Soda smiled to himself. "Everyone keeps at least one thing from their childhood. That's mine."

Darry smiled at him. "I guess some things never lose their value."

"Do you think we can help the others see it?" Soda asked suddenly, returning to his seat. "That there's good in life and that this is actually a time for miracles?"

"Yeah. Well, maybe we can't do it for them, little buddy, but we can make it better around here and maybe then they'll be more open to it."

Soda hesitated then nodded. "This time of year is hard for Steve as it is," he said quietly.

"I know. That's why he has you," Darry said quietly. "Do you think you have the energy to help him out this year?"

Soda smiled softly. "You know, I just got a new batch of energy last night."

"I thought you'd say that."

"What about you? We've still got Ponyboy and Two-Bit to worry about."

"I got some new energy today too," Darry told him with a smile of his own. "That kid's excitement was contagious. And I'm stunned that you read a book."

"Shut up." Soda laughed and got to his feet, taking the bear from Darry. "Then I'm off to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"We'll get that tree."

Soda nodded. "Good. Night, Darry."

"Good night, Soda."

Darry watched his little brother head off to bed and couldn't help but wonder how he ended up with such a good family. They'd do more than get through the holiday. They'd enjoy it.


	3. The Christmas Cottage

**disclaimer: I don't own _the Outsiders_ or the movie _The __Christmas Cottage_** **that this was based on.**_  
_

**Story Three**

**The Christmas Cottage**

Pony stared at his older brothers, wondering where in the world this energy came from. But there they were, excitedly chattering about trees. Pony just wanted the Christmas tree shopping to be over already.

"Ponyboy, what about this one?" Soda called over excitedly. Ponyboy trudged to them.

"Sure."

"That's all we get?" Soda prodded. "This is our Christmas tree."

"Looks good to me," Pony said, trying for more excitement in his voice.

Darry and Soda exchanged a look that didn't help Ponyboy's attitude in the slightest. He knew that look. It was the _worried-big-brother_ look. It ended with Darry shrugging and giving Soda a _we're-doing-what-we-can_ look.

Pony swallowed back his annoyance. He knew they were trying to make him excited about Christmas but he knew there was nothing they could do unless they could bring Mom, Dad, Johnny, and Dally back. But they couldn't do that. He forced a smile for their sakes, even though he knew it was a pathetic looking smile.

They paid for the tree, said goodbye to Darry, who'd be bringing it home in the truck, and Soda and Pony started on their way. "You want me to walk you to Mr. Dane's house?"

Pony shook his head. "It's out of your way. Besides, I know the way." Silence fell between them. Feeling the need to break it, Pony said, "Who was reading Dickens? Was it Darry?"

Soda grinned. "No."

Pony raised his eyebrows. "But none of the rest of you ever crack open a-"

"It was me."

Pony's eyebrows shot so far up that he was worried they vanished. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"I dunno. I felt like it."

"You felt like reading a book?"

"Everyone finds this so hard to believe," Soda said with a dramatic air. "I read."

"One book, Soda. You've read one book."

"I've read more than that! For school. When Mom made me."

Pony nodded. "I feel like my point is proven."

Soda laughed. "Look, just 'cause I read and liked a book-"

"You _liked_ the book?"

Soda laughed louder. "Yeah. I liked the book."

Pony nodded. "Wow."

Soda grinned at him and slowed to a stop as they reached the DX. "You sure you don't want me to walk you, Ponyboy? Where does this guy live anyway?"

Pony pointed. "Right around the corner. I think I'll be fine from here to there." He smiled at Soda. "Honest. I can survive."

Soda rolled his eyes. "Ya can't blame me for worrying."

Ponyboy nodded slightly. It was true. After the year he'd had, he'd be surprised if his brothers ever let him cross the street without holding onto one of them. "I'll be okay. Want me to swing by before I go home?"

"Yeah. Please."

"Okay." Pony gave a small smile when he saw the anxiety in his brother's eyes. "I'll be okay." He turned and headed towards Mr. Dane's house.

He liked looking in on Eric Dane, that was Mr. Dane's father, more or less. Sometimes Eric was a little harsh or grumpy but he was a nice guy. He was a writer, which Ponyboy loved to hear him talk about. But he found that his excitement to see the man today was downed by his frustration at Christmas. Why couldn't he share his brothers' excitement?

He sighed to himself and walked in the house. "Eric?" he called. "Eric, it's me."

"Well, don't just stand there! Come in the room!" was the gruff reply. "The room" was the living room. It was Eric's favorite room in the house.

Pony took off his jacket and headed into the living room. "Good afternoon, Eric."

"Hi, kid." Eric put down the book he was reading and looked up. "Well, what's eating you?"

"It ain't nothing." Ponyboy sat down.

"It's obviously something. When a kid looks like that he's contemplating why the world is so cruel. Now what set you off?"

Ponyboy shrugged and Eric stared at him with a look that seemed as if he could see through him. Finally, Pony said, "Christmas just ain't here this year."

Eric stared at him before chortling. "What month are you living in?"

Pony sighed. "No. I mean-"

"I know what you mean. But watch what you say. It can be misleading." Eric eyed him thoughtfully. "What's your trouble with Christmas?"

Ponyboy hesitated. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

Pony fought back a groan. He _didn't_ bring it up. Eric dug for it and this was his way of digging more. Either he knew what he was doing perfectly well or he was struggling and Pony should have patience. "I didn't, sir. You did."

"I did?" Eric was quiet for a moment. Pony looked up, worry shooting through him. Mr. Dane had told him that Eric was on his last legs but this was more than concerning. Mr. Dane said it happened a lot and Pony had seen it before but he hated it every time it happened. "Well, there must have been a reason. Talk about it son. It always helps."

"Sure," Pony said after a moment of watching the older man. He tried to remember what exactly was wrong with him. Alzheimer's, he thought. "My parents died last January. This is our first Christmas without them and it's tough."

Eric nodded his head slowly. "Death's aren't an easy thing to deal with, kid, but-"

"My best friend died just a few months ago too," Pony blurted. He immediately wished he hadn't. He hated talking about Johnny's death. He'd written his theme all about it and that felt like more than enough talking about it for him. "And another one of my buddies right after. In the same night."

Eric looked at him severely. "You've had a tough year, kid."

"I know." Ponyboy looked down. "My parents always made Christmas special. They told us _A Christmas Carol_ almost every night. My dad would always interrupt with details that weren't supposed to be there. My mom would tell him to stop and he'd come back with some smart answer and then the story would continue. All our friends would come around on Christmas and in the afternoon we'd play a game of football in the park."

"Do you think it's going to be less special this year?"

"I know it's going to be less special this year. Mom and Dad are gone. So are Dally and Johnny. I mean, we've played football since Dad died but… Not since Dally and Johnny. I don't know if we really want to."

"Kid, you're going to have to."

"Why?"

"If you ever want things to get back to normal, you have to stop tiptoeing. You're allowed to play a game of football, especially an annual game. In fact it'd be good for all of you." Eric stopped to cough into a handkerchief. Pony looked up in alarm but Eric waved him off and put the handkerchief away. "You're just a young one. You should be enjoying Christmas."

"I just don't feel it."

"You don't feel the kindness and the love that is so noticeable this time of year?"

"No."

Eric eyed him. "You know, you're an intuitive kid. I'm not sure that's true."

"Then what's wrong with me?" Ponyboy asked, almost desperately. He leaned back on his arms and gazed up at the old man.

"You're tired, kid. You're depressed."

Ponyboy sighed and let himself fall to the floor. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. Over the past year, he'd dealt with enough to depression to last a lifetime. "How do I make it stop?"

"Well, what's eating you?"

"We went over this. People keep dying."

Eric snapped his fingers. "That's it."

Ponyboy looked up tiredly. "I know that's it. I just said that that's it."

Eric shook his head. "It's not the people that you lost. You just said that they "keep dying". You're afraid of losing more, especially around Christmas."

Ponyboy bit his lip and nodded slowly. "I guess I am. No one's been themselves this month, being Christmas and all. Two-Bit's on the verge of actually being quiet. And if you knew my friend, you'd be shocked."

"I've heard stories from my son, believe me."

That seemed about right. "And Steve's grumpier than usual. Darry and Soda, that's my brothers, have been quieter and we just bought a tree today. But now that they're both feeling better and feeling Christmas, that's getting on my nerves too. I don't know why."

"Because you're still worried and upset. When we feel these emotions, a small part of us is always rubbed the wrong way when others around us are jolly. Because they want us to be part of the happiness that we don't think we can feel."

Pony rolled onto his stomach. "But I _want_ to feel it."

Eric looked at him. "I think I have a cure for you."

"You do?"

"Write about it."

"Write about it?"

Eric passed him a pad and paper. "Write. Anything that comes to your mind, especially about Christmas. Write about a lost man finding his way. Write about a family having a miracle. Sometimes if you write light enough, you feel the light. Maybe if you write about the spirit of Christmas you'll begin to feel it yourself."

Pony blinked at him and looked at the pad. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Begin with an idealistic young man who's down on his luck. Begin where you are."

_Begin where you are._ Ponyboy knew that Eric was talking about him but he took a different path. The moment his pen hit the paper, he knew what he was writing about. _An idealistic young man who's down on his luck. Begin where you are. _

When he finished, he handed it to Eric. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't at school and Eric wasn't his teacher but it felt like the thing to do. Besides, he couldn't talk about it. He had a lump in his throat the size of Texas.

He watched Eric turn page after page. When he finished, he looked at Ponyboy long and hard. "Who is this Darrel?" he asked finally.

"My father."

"That's what I thought." He looked through the pages again. "Sounds like he had some rough times."

"He mentioned them a few times, around Christmas," Pony said quietly. "He talked about how he loved the holiday because it was a fresh start. It was a clean slate. A time to be reborn, to try again."

"Do you believe that?"

"You know something?" Ponyboy looked up. "I do."

"I thought so." Eric smiled at him. "Do you mind if I keep this?" Ponyboy shook his head. "Thank you." Eric set it aside. "Do you feel better?"

Ponyboy nodded. "Yeah. I think… I think I can start getting excited again. It's a clean slate. Time to let things be different, be better. I can't live in fear that someone's going to die."

Eric nodded. "Exactly. You have to live."

Ponyboy got to his feet.

"Wait, Ponyboy." Eric got to his feet shakily. Pony looked at him worriedly. Eric extended his hand. "It's the 18th. This is the last time I'll be seeing you."

Ponyboy blinked in surprise. It was. He hadn't realized it. His teacher's extra job ended today. He smiled at Eric and shook his hand. "No it's not, sir. I'll be around."

Eric smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." He lowered himself back into his chair. "Good afternoon, boy."

Pony nodded. "Good afternoon." He walked to the door. "Merry Christmas," he called over his shoulder.

A laugh sounded in the other room. "Merry Christmas indeed, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy walked out of the house and headed back for the DX. Checking in on Eric was the best thing that could have happened. Feeling Christmas again wasn't going to be an overnight experience for him unfortunately, not like it apparently was for his brothers. But he thought he should have it back by Christmas. He had hope for the first time and he felt a thousand times lighter. Who knew that writing could help?

He walked into the gas station. "Hey."

Soda looked up. "Pony!" He gave him a long look then smiled and said, "You look better."

"I feel better." He put as much meaning into the words as possible, hoping Soda would pick up on it.

By the smile on his brother's face, he knew he had. "I'm so glad."

Steve looked between them, eyebrows raised. "You're both nuts," he said decidedly.

Soda grinned at him. "You're next."

Steve shook his head. "Nope. Get your cheer away from me."

Soda laughed and grinned at Pony. "He's next."

Pony grinned. "He's next," he agreed.

"It's not like it's contagious," Steve muttered.

"I think it might be," Soda said with a grin. He looked at Pony. "You really feel better?"

"I do. I ain't gonna lie about it, Soda." He smiled at his brother. "I think it's not going to be a bad Christmas after all. If anyone can turn it around, it's the Curtises."

Soda grinned. "We are our father's kids, aren't we?"

"Yeah." Pony felt his smile grow as he thought about his father. "Yeah, we sure are."


	4. The Christmas Shoes

**A/N: Here it is! Sorry it took so long. The past few days have been a little nuts and I think my sister got me sick. ****I want to say RIP Peter O'Toole. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders and I don't own the Christmas Shoes. The inspiration for this chapter came from the book, movie, and song The Christmas Shoes.**

**Story Four**

**The Christmas Shoes**

_Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please  
It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size  
Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time  
You see she's been sick for quite a while  
And I know these shoes would make her smile  
And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight_

_-_The Christmas Shoes by Newsong

Christmas Eve, 1967

"I hate Christmas." Steve turned the closed sign on the DX window and shook his head.

"You what?"

Steve looked over his shoulder to see Soda looking at him as if he'd grown a new head. "I hate Christmas," he repeated. "All the cheer and the bustle and the pushing and the shoving. Who needs it."

Soda shook his head, looking actually sad about this. "You love Christmas, Steve. I know it's tough on you but it's-"

"Damn right it's tough!" Steve shook his head, turning back to the window. Christmas had been a hard time for years but Soda was right. Usually he did love Christmas in spite of it. Christmas was the one time of year that he believed in people. It was the one time of year that he felt like there was good in the world. But that was missing this year. Since losing the Curtises and the boys, every loss felt heavier this year.

"But Steve you have to believe in people at least sometimes! You _know_ that people can be good! You know it! You know that six years ago-"

"Don't." Steve whirled around to face him. Memories were about to swallow him up. Memories of a hospital bed, of alcohol bottles lining the kitchen counter, of seeing his dad passed out in a chair, of a stranger in line to buy last minute Christmas gifts. "Don't go there, Soda."

Soda closed his eyes, took a breath, and then looked at him again. Gentler, he said, "I don't want to see you turn your back on the world. You have to have faith, even for one month out of the year." Soda was worried for him, he knew that. He knew that Soda believed that people would come through for you. He knew that Soda believed that people were good and that the world was good. He knew that Soda loved Christmas and he knew that Soda had just become excited about it again. But he couldn't make himself join his best friend in that.

"I'll be fine without it. You're the one who feels the need to see the good in people. I say they're all rotten and we both know it."

"Fine, whatever you say." Soda stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way for the door. "Just do me a favor, all right? Go to the store and grab some apples. I have to go help Darry get ready for dinner tomorrow and we need them for the pie."

"That's low, man. This is your shining effort? Send me to the store? What are you hoping for here?"

"Apples. I told you that." Soda opened the door. "If you want to take more meaning out of a simple trip to the store then you do that."

"You're sending me to the store on Christmas Eve. I ain't stupid. And it ain't gonna work."

"Then you ain't risking anything, are you?" Soda met his eyes with an even, determined look.

"Fine! I'll go to the damn store." Steve shouldered past him. "I'll see you in a bit."

He hated Christmas and he especially hated Christmas Eve. One act of kindness from one random stranger did not mean that everyone was kind, even at Christmas. With a muttered curse, Steve pushed his way into the store. He hated this store, especially on Christmas Eve. There were too many memories that hurt too badly this year.

Because of those memories, the store was his least favorite place on Christmas. He hadn't been in a store on Christmas Eve in years until now. He wouldn't be going if he weren't determined to prove to Soda that he didn't need hope and that he could make it without it.

"Can I help you?" asked a man behind the counter. Steve scoffed and shook his head. The man was as busy as it was possible to be, checking out people left and right. He made his way to the groceries, shoulders squared and head down.

He glanced to the left and immediately was sorry that he did. He stopped and stared as he watched a young boy, no older than eleven, race down an aisle as if the devil were after him. Then the kid just vanished.

Steve turned away, swearing quietly. It was his imagination. Memories resurfacing, that was it. Although "that was it" wasn't good phrasing with this. He didn't want to remember; it hurt too badly. The day was etched into his mind and it always took a lot of work to repress it. This season was too painful without the memories.

_Why the hell do you want me remembering, Soda? What good will it do?_

Repressing a shudder, Steve grabbed the apples and hurried back to check out. He wanted to go home and go to sleep. That was it. He just wanted a break. He wanted it over with.

He got in line and tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the line to end. He remembered cutting into the front of the line, knowing that he had minutes left. He remembered a stranger letting him do it instead of raising a fit. He closed his eyes and willed it away.

The line moved steadily, although not as quickly as he'd like. Finally, he was next. The man in front of him lay his gifts on the counter and offered money. Steve watched him, wondering why he looked familiar. He was about to give up when the cashier said, "You're short." Suddenly, he recognized him. The man was _him_.

Everything clicked and the pushed back memories roared forward.

_It was Christmas Eve, 1961. Steve raced into the store, pockets jingling with money. He didn't have much time left. He had to get in and get out. Thankfully, he knew just what to get his mother._

_It had taken him weeks to collect the money to buy his mother the Christmas shoes that he knew she'd love. He finally had the money and he knew now that this was the last gift he would ever give her. _

_He threw himself to his knees by the shoes and began looking through the mess of discarded footwear. He began to panic. It looked like they were gone. What would he do now? His mom was going to die tonight. He knew it by the look in his father's eye and the sad smile his mom gave him. He knew it by how much weaker she was and by the surprising gentle tone his dad used when he told him to hurry home. _

_When his mom got sick, his dad started drinking. He wasn't sure what would happen to them after she died. It wasn't fair, it wasn't. But that didn't matter. This wasn't the night to worry about himself. It was time to take care of his mom._

_His heart leaped as he recognized the shoes and grabbed them. He scrambled to his feet and raced to the counter. There was a man getting ready to check out and he knew that he really should get in line. But he also knew that he did not have time. The man would have to forgive him._

_Steve dived between the man and the counter. "Please, sir," he said before the man could speak. "I'll be real fast, I promise."_

"_Fine," grunted the man. He looked grumpy and rather annoyed, Steve thought. But he didn't have time to worry about it. _

_He turned to the man behind the counter. "Sir, please hurry. I have to get these to my mom."_

_The cashier fixed him with an annoyed look. Steve wondered briefly why people seemed grumpy. It was Christmas Eve. He felt like he was about to drop off of a ledge and he seemed to be in a better mood. After all, he loved his mom. This was his chance to do something for her one last time. These people were going to have many chances to show their loved ones that they loved them. So what was the problem?_

"_You're short," the man said gruffly._

_Steve stared at him. The floor had disappeared before he had expected. "What?"_

"_You're short. You don't have enough here."_

"_No, no. That can't be right. Please. Please, sir." Steve felt tears stinging his eyes. "Please."_

"_Kid, if you don't have more money, move over."_

_Steve stepped away, wiping at his eyes. He could not cry in front of these people. He couldn't. But how could he not? This was his last night with his mom and now he had nothing for her. _

"_Hey, son," said the man that he had cut in front of gently. "Kid, what's going on?"_

"_My mom's real sick," Steve sniffed. "My dad doesn't think she'll make it through the-" His voce cracked and he closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and continuing, "I wanted to buy these for her because I thought she'd like them and I wanted her to feel pretty if she went to heaven tonight."_

_The man looked at him for a long moment before turning to the cashier. "I'll buy him the shoes." He put the money down on the counter._

_Steve went to stand beside him, staring. "Really?" Growing up on the rough side of town, Steve knew the score. Life was tough for them, never expect anyone to help. But here someone was, helping him. Helping his mother._

_The cashier pushed the box to him. Steve looked at the man who had paid with watery eyes. "Thank you, mister. Thank you. I'll pay you back, I promise."_

_The man gave him a small, sad, sympathetic smile. "Get to your mom, all right?"_

"_Thank you." Steve raced out of the store._

Here was the man who had changed Steve's life. Standing right in front of him. And now he was short.

"Oh, you're kidding." The man shook his head. "Ah, shoot. I messed up. I haven't messed up like this in a while. I promised my wife I'd get this for our daughter and now I went and didn't bring enough." He sighed. "How late are you open?"

"We're closing in five."

"I'll cover you." Steve was shocked to hear himself speak but it sure wasn't anyone else. He stepped up. "I'd like to help."

The man blinked at him. "Well, that's… surprising."

Steve realized that there was no way the man recognized him. He stepped up and set the money down. The cashier did the transaction and the entire time, Steve felt the man staring at him.

"Now, anything for you?" the cashier asked.

Steve looked at the apples and realized Soda hadn't given him anything. Sometimes they didn't but it was rare that Soda didn't at least try. Steve felt a scoff tear out of him as he realized. He did what Soda sent him here for already. He'd remembered and he could feel some of the ice inside melting ever so slightly. "No," he said slowly. "No thanks." He set the bag down and walked out of the store, the man behind him.

"What's your name, kid?" the man asked.

"Steve." Steve turned to him, unsure of how to react now that he was actually meeting the man that had saved his mom's last Christmas.

"I'm Robert." The man shook his hand. "Listen… Why'd you do that?"

"You don't remember me, huh? I ain't surprised. Six years ago, you bought a boy some shoes that he couldn't afford. Shoes that he wanted-"

"For his mom," Robert said slowly. "That was you?"

"That was me."

"What a small world."

Steve wondered what they were doing. They were strangers and yet, for a moment, Steve had felt as if they had some sort of connection. Why? Because the man bought a kid some shoes?

Robert cleared his throat. "Listen… I don't want to be insensitive but… Your mother. Did she…?"

"Yeah. That night, actually." Steve felt a rush as he realized why they were standing there. There was something he still had to do. "Thank you. What you did…" _It changed my life._ The words were there but Steve couldn't quite get them out.

"Nah, don't worry about it." Robert gave him a small smile. "I wanted to help, that's all. It wasn't a big deal."

"It was to me," Steve told him honestly. "I ain't never had much faith in people or miracles but…" Realizing that he was talking like a girl, he cleared his throat. "Thank you. She loved them."

"You're welcome. I hope you're doing all right kid." Robert gave him a look that Steve hadn't received from an adult in a long time. It was a worried look.

Steve thought it over. Johnny, Dally, and Mr. and Mrs. Curtis flashed in front of his eyes, as well as a vision of his dad drinking and hollering at him. But the answer that he said surprised him because it was true, "I am."

_Damn you, Soda,_ he thought affectionately.

"Good. Thank you for helping me out in there."

"You're welcome." Steve chuckled lightly. "We just keep ending up in the same place, huh?"

"Guess so." Robert chuckled and backed away. "Well, I hope to see you around."

"Yeah."

Robert smiled at him. "You were true to your word, too. You paid me back." He turned and walked to his car.

Steve crossed his arms as he looked after the man. Life certainly had odd ways of working, that was for sure. The last person he had ever expected to see again was Robert and here he was, on the hardest Christmas since his mother died. He squared his shoulders and headed for the Curtis' house.

Sometimes people really did do good things. Sometimes people would help someone out of a hard time. Sometimes the light really did shine through it all. And sometimes you just needed a little reminder.

As Steve pushed his way inside, he called, "Hey! Soda!"

Soda leaned through the kitchen doorway to look at him. "Are you back?"

Steve stopped in his tracks and eyed his friend. Obviously he was back. But that wasn't what Soda was asking. Soda wanted to know if he was _back_. He shook his head, forcing a chuckle down. "I ought to give you a good one over the head. But, yeah, I'm back."

Soda grinned at him. "It worked?"

"Yeah. But I didn't get your damn apples."

"That's okay. Darry got some this morning. I didn't think you'd get them anyway."

"Well, you were right. I just needed a reminder, I guess." He shook his head.

"Good. Wanna help cook?"

"No way in hell."

"I figured." Soda sighed and went back to what he was doing. Steve could hear him quietly conversing with Darry in the kitchen.

"You know, Soda," Steve said, glancing at the door. "I think I need to go home and do something."

"I thought you'd say that. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Merry Christmas, Steve." Soda bounded in the room and gave him a cheeky grin.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Merry Christmas."

Two-Bit, who was sitting on the couch, glanced between them. He sighed. "I guess I'm the only one left, huh?"

Soda grinned at him. "Don't worry. We'll get you."

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Don't bet on it."

Steve grinned at Soda and shook his head. "I'll see you lot tomorrow." He walked outside. It was cold and he really should have driven to work but it just felt like a walking day. Now, of course, he wanted to kick himself for that.

He thought again of that Christmas six years ago. It'd been heartbreaking, by far the hardest Christmas of his life. But when he thought of it, he couldn't stop remembering the smile on his mother's face when she saw what he had done. Then he always thought of Robert giving him the money or the relief he had felt in that moment.

Steve walked inside his house quietly, knowing that his father was likely passed out on the couch. He quietly went to his bedroom and got in the closet. A moment later, he brought down the box and opened it. There they were.

The shoes.

His Christmas miracle.

**_Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please_**  
**_It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size_**  
**_Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time_**  
**_You see she's been sick for quite a while_**  
**_And I know these shoes would make her smile_**  
**_And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight_**


	5. The Christmas Attic

**A/N: I'm so sorry this is so late! It's been shockingly insane this week. But here it is. I hope you guys had a very Merry Christmas and I hope you like this! Happy Almost New Year guys! **

**Disclaimer; I do not own the Outsiders and I do now own the Christmas albu, the Christmas Attic by Trans-Siberian Orchestra (that album is what this chapter is based on, though somewhat loosely)**

**Story Five**

**The Christmas Attic**

Two-Bit Mathews felt exhausted, which was somewhat strange for him. He usually had a happy demeanor. But this month was tough, especially tonight. Tonight he had to deal with the fact that it was Christmas tomorrow. Usually, he knew what to expect.

He'd wake up, spend time with his mom and sister, then go to the Curtis'. They'd eat and then play a family football game. But their game would be short three people (plus a viewer). There would be no Mr. Curtis, jokingly calling foul at times when everything was done just right. There would be no Mrs. Curtis laughing from the sidelines that she married a cheater. There would be no Johnny teaming up with Ponyboy to take down one of the bigger players, like him or Darry. There would be no Dally pausing momentarily to ruffle Johnny's hair and then shove him lightly to the side.

Two-Bit usually loved Christmas. He would run around singing Christmas songs until someone, usually Dally, hit him or swore at him or threatened him until he quit. He'd eat all the sweets that seemed to be around at Christmas and then complain of a stomach ache. He'd be louder than ever, constantly picking bickering matches and acting wounded at random intervals.

But this year he'd been quiet. All of the losses that they'd dealt with were weighing on him, more than they had before. He'd been holding his pain back for his friends' sakes before, so that they could grieve. But it was harder now, at the time of the year he was most reminded of Mr. and Mrs. Curtis.

He pushed the door to his house open and went inside. "Mom?" He looked around. "Where are you? Lucy?"

There was no word from his mother or his sister. He moved from room to room, checking for them. They might have gone on a walk, their jackets were gone. But he had said he'd be home early so they would have waited, right?

He went up to the attic as a last resort and, sure enough, found them there. They were playing a card game of all things. He smiled to himself and cleared his throat loudly.

His little sister, who's back was to him, nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned. "Two-Bit." She sighed. "You scared me."

"I could tell. What are you two doing up here?"

"Your sister wanted to "feel the chill"," his mom said with an eye roll. "I told her I wasn't going outside so she talked me into coming up here for a few minutes. Her twenty minutes are almost up."

Lucy heaved a sigh. "Mom, it doesn't feel like Christmas without cold."

Their mom shook her head. "Can't you curl up on the couch with a blanket and call it good?"

Lucy looked disgusted at the idea and shook her head. "No."

"I don't know," Two-Bit said. "It makes sense to me, kid." He sat down. "I can sit with her, Mom. You can go down."

"Thank you." Mrs. Mathews got to her feet. "My children are crazy," she muttered as she went back down.

"She means you," both siblings said in unison.

Two-Bit grinned and looked at the hand of cards that had been his mom's. "This is a terrible hand," he reported.

Lucy laughed. "You aren't supposed to tell me that!"

"I'll tell you anything I want to!"

She rolled her eyes and then flicked her gaze to her cards. "So," she said. Her voice was tentative, as if she were getting ready to poke a bear with a stick or harass a man with a gun. Two-Bit knew that tone and he felt his body tense. "How do you feel tonight?"

"Fine."

"I ain't blind."

"I didn't say you were."

"I know you're unhappy. You love Christmas. You're always louder than ever, getting in everyone's face with songs and the like."

Two-Bit shrugged. "Happiness doesn't seem common this year." If only that were true. Soda started it. He got his Christmas cheer back before anyone, from a book of all things. Two-Bit nearly laughed out loud with Soda told him. Then Darry said he saw someone make the world a brighter place for someone and he perked up. Ponyboy was next, claiming that he had a friend tell him some helpful things. Then, just hours ago, Steve had pulled himself out of his funk.

It wasn't that Two-Bit wanted them to be in pain. But he didn't want to hurt alone. He knew that it was selfish of him but he also knew that sometimes selfish feelings couldn't be stopped. That was part of being human.

"So be uncommon."

Two-Bit scoffed. "It's harder than you'd think."

"I know it's been hard since…" Lucy's whisper trailed off at a hard look from Two-Bit. "They wouldn't want you to be miserable." She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "Don't feel guilty about being happy." She got to her feet. "I'm going to go to bed. Are you gonna be all right?"

Two-Bit sighed and ran his fingers through his greasy hair. "Fine. Don't worry about it."

"Can't help it." She gave him a small smile before leaving him alone in the attic.

He got to his feet and went to the small window. It was dark out, small snowflakes lit the sky as they drifted to the ground. He cocked his head to the side as he watched. He'd always though of snow as purifying. It hits the ground and it's still bright and white. And when it melts into the ground, it makes it somehow brighter too.

Two-Bit sighed and began to move around the stuff that had collected in the attic. He could see some projects that he and Lucy had done in school and some folders that contained their best schoolwork. A wedding picture of his mom and his father was lying on a box. Two-Bit averted his eyes quickly. Anything having to do with his father was more painful than he cared to admit. It had been years and he still didn't know what he'd done wrong.

Two-Bit knew just about everything up here except for a chest that had been here forever. For some reason, he'd never looked inside. He moved to it and knelt next to it, curiosity getting the best of him. He opened it and couldn't stop a smile from forcing its way on his face. There must have been a hundred envelopes in it, along with some newspaper clippings.

He picked up an envelope that was addressed to his mother's sister in Texas. It was dated a few years back, around Christmas time. He turned it over to open it then hesitated. He shouldn't be reading his mother's mail, even if it was pretty old. But something made him open it anyway.

_Sarah-_

_Things have been tough since Scott left us._

Two-Bit paused and looked at the date again. Sure enough, it was the year that Scott Mathews skipped out on them. He bit his lip, once again unsure of whether or not he should be reading this. Finally, he got back to reading anyway.

_I've been real lost the past few months, as you know. I appreciated your visit last month and I know the kids did too. Thank you so much for bringing them Christmas gifts too. You didn't have to do that and I appreciate it. I'm not sure how much I can do for them this year._

_But I write to you with good news too. This morning, I found hope again and some excitement as well. Scott took a lot from us but he didn't take the children and he didn't take their love of Christmas. I suppose that means that he didn't take mine either. And I found it again._

_Here's what happened._

_I took the kids to school and I was about to leave when I heard some raised voices. When I looked over, I saw this little girl, probably a little bit younger than Lucy, being made fun of by some older kids. She looked about to cry. Now, Keith and Lucy both immediately went to the group and stood between her and the kids. They told the kids off and Keith mentioned that he was friends with a boy who was about to go play football in high school (that's the oldest of their little group). The kids backed off right away._

_My wonderful kids turned to the little girl and started asking if she was all right and telling her to ignore them. It's times like this that I'm blown away by those two. Keith is only 11 and Lucy is 8 but they're darn good kids. Lucy told the little girl that it was Christmas and Christmas meant that you got to be happy and that those kids were only being mean because they were bad kids and on the naughty list. Keith backed her up whole-heartedly._

_Lucy then did something that I will never forget. She reached into her stuff and pulled out this little doll of hers. You know the one her dad got her last Christmas? She looked at it and said, "This is my good luck doll. She keeps the mean kids away." Then she handed her to the girl and told her, "I think you need her more than I do. She can be your guardian angel."_

_Then later when I picked them up from school, Lucy told me right away, "I made a new friend today." It turns out that she and the little girl (her name is Tammy) were in the same class and didn't even know it. I hope they stay friends. Lucy was very excited about it._

_But what I noticed is that Lucy didn't tell me what she did. I don't think she wanted any recognition. She knew she did something kind and that was enough for her. You should have seen Keith with her that day. I swear, as good as a brother as he is, that he has never been more attentive with her. His eyes were shining with pride all night. _

_Lucy went to bed about an hour ago and Keith stayed in the living room with me. Then he said, "Mom, I think you should know what Lucy did today." He told me the whole story from start to finish. Then, when he was done, he said, "Mom, if we don't have enough money, I think you should give my presents to Lucy this year. She deserves them."_

_What wonderful children I have Sarah! Both so willing to sacrifice for someone else. I hope they never lose that._

_I love you, sister. Merry Christmas._

_Love from, _

_Donna Mathews_

Two-Bit blinked down at the letter. He'd forgotten all about that night. He really had. But it was true. Lucy had given up that doll (the last gift she'd ever gotten from their dad) and he had tried to give up his gifts. Neither of them had thought anything of it.

He bit his lip thoughtfully and then continued to go through the chest. They were all letters written around Christmas. They were all centered around some sort of Christmas miracle. They all gave the message of hope and love. They were all his own personal Christmas miracle. But he found himself drifting back to that first letter as he prepared to go to bed. He read it a few more times, finding himself smiling more and more.

That was a hard Christmas, with his dad being gone, but he remembered Christmas Day and it was a great one. Lucy had a new friend, he had had a new pride at being a big brother, and his mother had been happy for the first time since Scott left. If they made it through that then maybe they could get through this too.

He got to his feet and left the attic. Instead of going into his room, though, he went into his sister's. He landed with a thud beside her on the bed.

Lucy gasped and sat straight up, eyes wide. She looked at him and then immediately glared. "What the hell are you doing you big lump? Get out!"

"You got quite a mouth on you for a fifteen-year-old," he stated.

Lucy glared. "Two-Bit. We both know it ain't nothing like the mouth you had at my age."

Two-Bit grinned at her. "True enough. Come here. I want to talk to you."

She hesitated before lying beside him. "Fine. But I'm tired so make it quick."

"Do you remember the first Christmas when Dad left?"

She was quiet for a long moment before saying, "Sure."

"I was upstairs and I found this letter to Aunt Sarah from Mom."

"You read Mom's mail?" Lucy stared at him.

"It's seven years old!" Two-Bit said quickly. "Look, I still shouldn't be reading Mom's letters but listen to what was in it okay?"

"And I thought I was the troubled one," muttered Lucy. "Fine. Tell me."

Two-Bit went through the contents of the letter quietly. "You remember that?"

"Of course I remember. She's been my friend ever since. I didn't forget how I met her." She was quiet for a minute. "I didn't know Mom knew about that."

"Me neither. We were both so proud of you…"

Lucy bit her lip. "You wanted to give your presents to me?"

"You deserved them."

"And you didn't? Two-Bit, you were eleven and helping Mom all around the house. You were just a kid and you were trying to make up for _him_ not being there."

Two-Bit smiled softly. "What else would I do?"

"Be a kid." She was quiet for a while before whispering, "You seem happier."

Two-Bit was quiet for a moment before saying, "I am. That letter reminded me of everything we'd gotten through. It reminded me that we can get through this too. That I can."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Me too. Now scoot, kid, I want to sleep."

"Scoot? It's my bed!"

"Well, tonight it's our bed."

"Unbelievable." Lucy rolled over with a huff but Two-Bit would bet anything that she was smiling. "Good night."

"Good night."

On Christmas morning there was a sheet of snow on the ground and Two-Bit finally did something that he did every year. He woke his family up by singing Christmas songs loudly around the house. Then he made breakfast and in the afternoon headed to the Curtis' for their annual game of Christmas football.


	6. The End

**A/N: I was planning to end it with the last chapter. But I got a couple of people asking for another chapter. I took another look and decided I could do a better job of wrapping it up. So here we go. It isn't very long. But it ties it together I think. So thank you guys for reading this. Writing it has been pretty therapeutic for me and I'm glad it was enjoyable. You guys are all great. You make writing here so fun. Merry late Christmas everyone.**

**(Just a heads up to everyone reading my other stories. I've just started school but now that week 1 is over, It's a Bittersweet Life should be updated shortly as should Stand by Me. Thanks!)**

**Story Six**

**The End**

Words couldn't describe the relief Soda felt on Christmas Day. Ponyboy and Darry had kicked the morning off by waking Soda and initiating a snow ball fight. After about a half hour of that, the freezing boys moved inside and spent the morning together. Around one, Steve turned up and he was actually smiling again, much to Soda's relief. His good mood really had lasted through the night.

"Hey, Dare, can I help?" Soda asked, popping his head into the kitchen.

"Sure. Grab me the milk, will ya, little buddy?"

Soda obediently got the milk and handed it to his brother. "Have we heard from Two-Bit at all?" he asked after a moment.

Darry glanced at him and shook his head. "No."

Soda sighed softly. "Do you think he still feels…?" He let his voice trail off. There was no word for the emotion that they had all been feeling and all still felt at least slightly.

"I don't know, little buddy. We've just got to try cheering him up, huh?"

Soda sighed. "Fine. When he comes in, I'm singing Rudoplh."

Darry chuckled. "Are you?"

"He'd done it enough times." Soda opened the refrigerator.

"Get out of there." Darry swatted at his younger brother affectionately with a towel. "We're eating soon."

"Not soon enough," Soda whined playfully, shutting the fridge. He grinned to himself. He loved these moments. The moments where it was obvious who the younger brother was and who the older brother was. He loved the moments that somehow managed to wrap their entire relationship up in a few seconds. Soda did the only thing he could think of that would be fitting to the moment: he stuck out his tongue.

Darry laughed. "Get out. You're driving me nuts."

"You'll miss me." Soda grinned at him before ducking out of the kitchen. Steve and Ponyboy sat at the table, playing poker. Now _that_ was an unusual sight. It was rare, finding Steve and Ponyboy doing anything together, much less laughing while doing it.

"It ain't my fault you don't know how to read a bluff," Pony said with a laugh.

"I know how to read a bluff!" Steve insisted.

"The kid's a good liar," Soda thew in, giving Ponyboy's hair an affectionate ruffle.

Pony ducked away from his hand, scowling playfully.

"Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer!"

All heads turned towards the door as Two-Bit came in, singing cheerfully off key. He looked between them. "What?"

"Are you singing?" Steve finally asked.

"Well. It's Christmas. That's what people do ain't it?"

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "Do we count you as people?"

Two-Bit grinned, a huge grin that hit every part of his face. They hadn't seen that in a long time. "Oh I'm going to get you."

"Oh? How?"

"Football."

At Steve's look of surprise, Two-Bit smirked. "You think I won't make you play me? I can take you."

"I say we go now," Soda said loudly, feeling a grin spread across his face.

"After we eat!" Darry hollered. "Golly." But there was a tone of rumbling laughter to his voice. Not long after, the kitchen was so crowded you could barely move. Each and every one of them were in there, trying to help and hurry it up. Darry laughed and yelled for them to get out but no one moved and Darry didn't enforce it. Soda couldn't help but think that they were just glad to be this close on Christmas. This was what they had been missing all along. It was the joy and the hope and the love. It was hearing five voices all laughing together. It was not being able to move because someone was right beside you. It was knowing, for the first time in a while, that you were not only not alone but you would never be alone because these people wouldn't allow it to happen.

You had family. You were okay.

You were okay.

Finally, they ate. A food fight nearly broke out but Darry, while laughing, managed to put a stop to it. Soda grinned around. His attitude had improved and he hadn't realized that there was some other feeling really missing until this morning. But there had been.

They're joyful unity was back. They were one again.

The minute dinner was put away (not well, just well enough), five whooping boys ran out of the house, racing each other to the park. Darry quickly got them organized and going. He was grinning a wild grin that Soda hadn't seen him wear since the night of the rumble. He was in his element and for once he looked like the twenty-year-old that he was. He was excited, so excited that he couldn't even stand still.

Soda watched them all take positions, smiling. Yeah. They were okay.


End file.
